Our Parents Wed in June, So I Spent the Winter Claiming My Stepbrother novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Face on the Table

Sonja and Ray video-call over breakfast while Reeve's hand moves up Page's thigh under the table, then Page kisses him goodbye on the porch and the doorbell blinks.

At eight the next morning my mother called on video, and Reeve's hand was already on my thigh.

We sat side by side at the kitchen table with his phone propped against the sugar bowl.

I wore his gray flannel shirt, nothing under it, and wool socks.

The power was still out, but cell service held, and the stove had run all night.

"There they are!" my mother said.

Sonja Ruhl filled the screen in a bright quilted vest, with her reading glasses on a cord.

Behind her, a man in a canvas coat sat in a camp chair under a striped awning, holding a mug.

"Morning, Mom. Morning, Ray," I said.

"Morning, Page," Ray said. He had a quiet, slow voice.

"You got in last night, honey," my mother said. "I watched you come up the steps at midnight on the porch camera."

"I wanted you to know I was alive."

"You waved at me, you silly thing. Then I saw Reeve pull you inside, and I went right to sleep."

Under the table, Reeve's palm slid a few inches up my bare leg.

I kept my face exactly where it was.

"He was very welcoming," I said.

"That's what I told Ray. Ray, I said they'd get along."

"You did," Ray said.

Reeve's thumb traced a slow line on the inside of my knee.

"Reeve, honey, you're so quiet," my mother said. "Is the power out up there?"

"Yes, ma'am. The line's down at the county road," Reeve said.

"Is the stove going?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Damper at a quarter," Ray said. "Not more. You'll burn through the wood."

"Yes, sir," Reeve said, and his voice came out tight.

His hand moved higher.

I put my mug down because it had started to shake.

"Page, you look flushed," my mother said. "Are you warm enough?"

"I'm very warm."

"Eat something. Did Reeve make you eggs?"

"He made eggs on the camp stove," I said.

"Good boy," she said, and she meant it.

Reeve's fingers went still on my thigh for a second.

I felt him swallow.

Then his hand kept going, one slow inch, and his thumb brushed the crease of my leg where the shirt ended.

I turned my head toward him.

He was looking straight at the phone, with a pleasant face and a dark pink flush going up his neck.

"Page," my mother said. "Are you listening?"

"Yes. Sorry. Eggs."

"I said call me when you're settled. I have a lot to tell you about the RV park. There's a pickleball league. Ray won't play."

"I'm saving my knees," Ray said.

"For what?" she asked.

"Retirement."

She laughed.

She blew a kiss at the screen, and Ray lifted his mug, and the call ended on a picture of the awning.

The phone went dark.

I turned in my chair and looked at Reeve.

"You," I said.

"I know," he said.

"You put your hand on my leg while my mother asked about eggs."

"You said you were warm," he said.

"I was warm because of you!"

He grinned.

It was the first full smile I had seen on him, and it showed the small chip in his front tooth.

"I've never been so scared in my life," he said. "I've also never been so happy to be a coward."

I put my hands on his face.

"We need rules," he said against my palm. "Page, I mean it. They'll be back in April."

"What kind of rules?"

"The road opens Monday. You can go back to Denver, or wherever you want. Until then, this is just here."

"Until the road opens," I said slowly.

"Until the road opens. Nobody else's business."

"And what else?"

He thought about it.

"Nothing on the porch," he said. "Nothing in front of the door. Dad checks that camera every morning with his coffee."

"Nothing on the porch," I repeated. "Nothing the camera can see."

"Deal."

He held out his hand.

I shook it.

He used my hand to pull me into his lap and kiss me until I forgot what we had just agreed to.

At ten the snow stopped, and he put on his boots.

An old neighbor down the road had a lane the county plow would never reach, and Reeve had promised to clear it.

He pulled his canvas coat on over a clean shirt and stood by the front door with his plow keys in his hand.

"Back by noon," he said.

I stood barefoot in my wool socks and the long sweater I had pulled on.

"Okay," I said.

"Don't go out. It's ten below."

"Okay."

He opened the door.

Cold light and snow-glare came in, and the whole porch lay under new snow.

He stepped over the sill and turned to say something.

I grabbed his collar with both hands and kissed him.

I kissed him with my whole mouth, standing on my toes on the threshold.

His hands were on my waist, and the cold air blew across my bare legs.

He lifted me an inch off the floor.

When we pulled apart, he was breathing hard and smiling.

"The terms," he said.

"I forgot."

"So did I."

He went down the steps and across the yard to the truck.

I stood in the doorway and watched him go.

Above my head, the little camera blinked its blue light once.

I decided that it was nothing.

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